Sittin' in a Tree
by microgirl
Summary: Gracia wants to know who is Emily's mystery man...Rossi/Prentiss


_Sittin' in a Tree_

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything or anyone in regards to Criminal Minds; the show and its characters belong to a bunch of people who aren't me. I am merely borrowing the characters for my own amusement. Dance puppets, dance._

_Author's Note: I just started watching Criminal Minds and this is my first foray into the Rossi/Prentiss fandom. I hope this fic measures up to the other excellent stories that are out there. Constructive criticism welcome. Thank you to EllipsesBandit for her wonderful beta work and to Mingsmommy for her encouragement, beta work, and making sure everything fits canon. I tweaked this after these wonderful ladies looked an it so those mistakes belong to me._

* * *

"Oh, you're just the cutest thing ever. All blond hair and big blue eyes, how could any girl resist you? You're just a little sweetie pie."

Emily smirked. "Does Kevin know you flirt with other men?"

Garcia smiled, not bothering to look up. "He has come to understand my love for handsome, young men." She reached out to tickle the boy sitting at their table. "Isn't that right, sweetheart?" Ten month old Henry giggled, waving his little arms.

Brushing her hand across his hair, JJ chuckled. "I don't know; it seems like Henry is doing a bit of flirting himself."

The three women sat in the large red booth, with the baby at the end of the table in booster seat. They'd decided on impromptu night out together. Garcia insisted JJ bring Henry, and they all met a nearby diner after work. They spent the evening chattering away over juicy burgers, greasy fries, and thick, chocolate milkshakes.

"So what is Will doing with his night alone?" Emily asked.

"Hopefully the laundry and then taking out the trash," JJ deadpanned.

Garcia poured her remaining milkshake from the metal canister into the tall glass. "Aaaah, the real reason to live with a man."

With a slight conspiratory grin, JJ stirred the ice cubes in her water with a straw. "There are other incentives."

"True. There's nothing like coming home to a man draped on your bed with strategically placed spots of whipped cream." Cocking her head, Garcia turned her attention to the woman sitting across from her and JJ. "Now all we need is someone to keep the logs lit for Emily."

"No, actually _we_ don't."

JJ leaned against the shiny vinyl backing. "Whatever happened to the firefighter who helped us with that arson case in Richmond? The one who asked Morgan for your phonenumber?"

The brunette huffed. "He left three messages on my voicemail, and when I called him back he turned out to be a football obsessed freak who'd never even heard of Isaac Asimov."

"Who cares?!" Garcia exclaimed. "He was a fireman; and from what I heard, a _hot_ fireman. For that I wouldn't care if the man knew what a gigabyte was."

"Not my type."

Putting her finger over mouth, Garcia tilted her head in thought. "And that Lit professor who you met at Rossi's lecture at Georgetown wasn't your type either. The man who taught a class on Vonnegut's books."

"I…just…didn't think he was that attractive." Emily looked pointedly at Garcia, but said nicely, "I don't need you to pull out your supply of little heart arrows."

"Are you sure? Because I know there's this really cute guy in the ballistics-" But her suggestion was interrupted by the beeping of a cell phone.

Looking in her purse, Emily pulled out her cell phone. "It's mine."

"What is it?" JJ peered over the table.

"Tell me we do not have to go back in," Garcia groaned.

Emily shook her in frustration. "No. It's a voicemail. Every once in a while my phone won't ring and then I won't get the voicemail alert until later." She hit a few buttons before putting the phone to her ear. "It's from…" That's when the computer tech noticed Emily's lips starting to curve into a smile, but the brunette struggled with trying to cover it. A faint shade of pink rose in her cheeks and her brown eyes took on a distinctive shine, much like a brand new penny. Garcia's eyebrows rose up her forehead at this reaction.

"From…" JJ prompted, waving her hand.

"From…" Clearing her throat, Emily quickly put her cell phone away. "No one. It's not…from the office. It's just a message…from a friend ."

Garcia made no attempt to cover her choked laugh. "Oh please. That was not a voicemail from a _friend_." She purposefully studied Emily for a moment. "Who is he?"

Pulling her arms off the table, Emily announced, just a little too enthusiastically, "Oh look: pie!"

Sure enough the waitress had chosen that moment to return with the pie slices they'd ordered for dessert. If Emily thought she wasn't going to be answering any more questions, she was dead wrong. Garcia smiled slyly as the waitress filled their mugs with coffee, waiting it out. As soon as they were alone, Garcia started again. "Soooooo…who is he?"

JJ nodded knowingly. "Now we know why that Lit professor didn't even get a business card."

"I don't know what you two are talking are talking about."

Dropping her fork, Garcia shook her head slightly. "Oh please, Priestess Prentiss the Perceptive Profiler."

"Say that three times fast," JJ laughed.

"You may think you're being all brilliant by hiding your phone and acting like you have no idea what we're talking about," Garcia continued. "But what you don't realize is that you were trying to fight an involuntary smile, you blinked rather rapidly," she made the exaggerated respective action. "And you tapped your hand on the table like you couldn't wait to call back. Those, my dear, are the classic signs of a woman who received a sweet little call from a man she is seeing and has been seeing for a while."

"That is an excellent profile," JJ complimented.

"I'm not just a pretty face," Garcia answered haughtily.

Rolling her eyes, Emily waved her fork between the two women. "You two are crazy. There is no-"

"Reason for you to lie," Garcia finished. "You might as well tell us who is he is and give us a little info on him." Both blondes looked expectantly at Emily, not breaking eye contact.

Emily remained silent for a moment, before his lips lifted into a smile that resembled something of the villains from the graphic novels Garcia read in high school. "You both want to know about him?" They nodded. "Okay. He's incredibly hot, he smells like vanilla, and he gives great back massages."

The two women looked at each other quizzically. It only took a moment, and they both rolled their eyes. It was JJ who snorted. "Your hot tub does not count." But Emily merely laughed harder.

"You may think you can hide the identity of your mysterious man caller, but do not underestimate my powers, my dear. I know all and see all, meaning I will find out who he is." Garcia told her before stabbing her fork into her slice of pie to emphasize her point.

Emily's smug smile only grew wider. "But not today."

* * *

The hot summer days had finally ended and autumn began in Washington DC. The view of the nation's capital from Emily's apartment was that much more beautiful with the tree leaves having turned to bright oranges and brilliant reds. The sun shone, but the weather was already cool and crisp; it was the perfect day to walk through the parks outside the city and then warm up with a large mug of hot apple cider.

That did sound nice…but at the moment, Emily preferred to stay warm in her bed. Currently, she lay cocooned under sheets and large, fuzzy blankets. Of course she also had her own personal heater by the name of David Rossi, her real incentive to stay home under the covers on the Sunday morning.

Emily had been dozing for a while when she felt the mattress move. She assumed Dave was getting up, but then his fingers grazed her shoulder as he leaned over, and kissed her neck.

She kept her eyes closed as he kissed her there over and over. The contrast of his soft lips and the prickle of his goatee on her skin caused Emily to hum in pleasure.

His hand moved to the side of her head where his thumb swept over her cheek as he slowly worked his way to her lips. His mouth remained unrelenting, but still very gentle; he tasted like sweet cinnamon zeppole. Blindly, she reached out to wrap her arm around his neck, bringing him closer. Combined with the clean, spicy scent of his skin, Emily's higher brain power had been reduced to almost nothing.

The pace slowed down to a few gentle pecks, and Dave slowly pulled away. Lifting her lids, Emily found his deep brown eyes. His tousled hair and warm smile made him look adorably handsome.

She sighed happily. "I'll take one of those every morning, please."

His smile grew. "Only if you promise to do a better job at brushing your teeth before you go to bed."

She gave him a playful nudge against his bare chest, to which he only chuckled at her. Bringing his face lower again, he brushed his nose across hers.

Punctuating each suggestion with kisses to her cheeks, chin, and forehead, he proposed, "What do you say to a breakfast of pancakes…scrambled eggs…sausage…and fresh orange juice?"

"That sounds wonderful."

"Good. And could you make some of those potatoes with the onions and green peppers, too?"

Luckily Emily Prentiss was a refined, mature woman; she didn't need to push him again. She needed to hit him. So she smacked his shoulder. Twice.

He frowned, but mirth still danced in his eyes. "Whatever happened to hospitality? We are at your apartment."

Rolling her eyes, she countered, "Whatever happened to chivalry?"

He pursed his lips in thought for a moment. "You're right. I should probably make breakfast." Her expression softened, and she massaged the hair at the nape of his neck. But then he continued with, "The last time you made pancakes you managed to burn the outside and yet keep the inside pure batter." For that, she thumped the back of his head.

"What?!" He protested. "That's real talent. I've never had pancakes so…crunchy and runny at the same time."

She narrowed her eyes. "You're such an arrogant bastard."

"Its part of my charm, cara mia."

"Well, I've had enough charm; what I'd really like is breakfast. Go. Get moving." He groused, grumbled, and put up a small fight as she pushed against his chest and arms. Finally, he left the bed, but stopped just short of the door. "How would like your pancakes? Batter on the inside or cooked all the way through?"

The pillow missed his head as he ducked out of the bedroom.

* * *

Emily lingered in bed just until the scent of coffee teased her nostrils. Climbing out of bed, she headed downstairs. She found Dave in the kitchen, dressed in a white t-shirt and maroon boxers, turning sausage links on the stove.

Pursing his lips, his eyebrows rose at what she wore, but Emily didn't say anything. Instead she asked if he needed any help, and he said the eggs needed to be stirred.

After a quick taste test, she determined the eggs needed a little spice. Standing on her tiptoes, she opened the cabinet above the stove to grab the bottle of Tabasco. She poured a little in the pan, and she brought her head up, she found Dave with a slightly lecherous expression.

"What?" she asked slowly, not quite sure if she wanted to what was going on in that brain of his.

"I was just wondering," he took a deliberate step toward her, "what you were wearing under there…if anything."

She snorted. "You know what they say; some things are best left to the imagination."

Stopping, he pretended to consider that for all of about five microseconds. "No, no," he shook his head. "I'm pretty sure I want to find out for myself."

It was then she caught the wicked gleam in his dark eyes. Emily held up the spatula. "That would be considered an illegal search."

"Not when it's _my _dress shirt."

She placed a hand on her hip, which was barely covered by his purple button down shirt.

"That is technically true, but what I may _or_ may not have under this is still none of your business," she managed in a sassy tone.

"I would highly disagree." And then he smiled that annoying, egotistical smile she simultaneously loathed and loved.

As Dave came closer, she backed up a few steps. Emily then moved to sidestep him, but he took a giant stride to his right, and blocked her. She went to go around his other side, but was once again unsuccessful. His eyebrow rose in challenge, and she managed not to sigh; she didn't want to give him the satisfaction of her frustration.

Using her training, she slid her foot to the right again, but at the last second pivoted her body around to go the other way. However, Dave displayed surprising reflexes, and shuffled instantly to where she intended to go. His arms came out, catching her around the waist. Emily struggled against his strong grasp to no avail; he had no plans to let her go. And to make matters worse, he began laughing triumphantly.

"A little too slow there, Prentiss," he chuckled. "But it's probably more that I'm that brilliant."

She pushed against him. "Shut up."

"I'll think about it. Now let's find out what lies beneath." He started moving his hand down her side, but she caught his wrist.

"You can find out what's underneath your own clothes."

"But this is my clothes. Now play nice, Emily." Tugging her closer, he began to nuzzle her neck. He purposefully ran his goatee on that sensitive spot just under her ear.

"Stop it, David. Stop it." It didn't sound too convincing as she attempted not to giggle.

"Oooh, David, stop it," he imitated with a low whine. She had a biting comment, but it was swallowed up when he pressed his lips against hers.

She should have resisted, but really how could she? Certainly not as he kissed her so deeply and thoroughly. As he tried once again to slide his fingers under her shirt, she batted him away causing him to chortle against her lips.

It was moments like this that overwhelmed Emily. She not only shared incredibly passionate moments with him, but they also enjoyed these delightful, lighthearted times. With other men, it had been one way or the other; never both. She'd found both sides in the same cocky, bristly, wonderful man.

She wasn't sure how long they'd been standing there, but enough time had passed that she no longer cared about keeping him away; in fact she wanted him even closer. When finally took a breath, she smelled something funny, but most of her outside observational skills had ceased functioning.

But all of them hadn't completely disappeared when she heard someone say, "Oh my God! Oh my God! I'm so sorry!"

She and Dave jerked apart when they both saw a very red and very flustered Penelope Garcia.

"Oh shit!"

* * *

Garcia wanted to find out the man Emily had been hiding. _Badly_. But that didn't mean she would hack into Emily's phone records; that was wrong on so many levels. Besides, she wanted to beat Emily at her own game; wait for the profiler slip up somehow and get her a sign as to who the mystery man might be.

She'd come by to simply invite the brunette out to search for the apples for the best-in-the-world apple crisp recipe. That was it. When she came to the door, Garcia had smelled a distinctive burning scent from the apartment. She panicked, immediately barging in to make sure Emily was okay. What Garcia didn't expect was to find a giant, humungous, bright, flashing neon sign of Emily making out and, oh, God, groping David Rossi.

The burning smell had been apparently coming from something in a pan on the stove. Rossi quickly removed the pan to the counter and turned off the burner. That took all of about three seconds of distraction and allowed everyone to return to the highest level of mortification.

Garcia could feel the fast burn of embarrassment from her shoulders all the way to the very top of her head. Emily buried her pomegranate shaded face in her hands as if hoping she would wake up from this horrible dream. Rossi stood mostly behind Emily; understandable because he was in his underwear; oh my God! She caught Rossi in his underwear. He purposefully avoided looking at both Garcia and Emily. She definitely caught the gaze of a man who was simultaneously angry and wanted to disappear into the floorboards at the same time.

Trying to ignore her heart ready to beat out of her chest, Garcia tried best to explain herself.

"I am so, so sorry! I just, I-I came by to see Emily. And-and-and I knocked. I swear I did! But no one answered and I was about to leave, but I smelled something burning and I wanted to make sure you were okay." She closed her eyes tightly. "And, oh God, you were definitely okay."

Emily groaned her own, "Oh God," into her hands which only made Garcia feel worse. She watched as Rossi squeezed Emily's shoulders.

Garcia just should've left at that point, but no she had to keep going. "I'm so sorry, sir. I really didn't mean to barge in here."

He licked his lips before clearing his throat. She recognized that same harshness in his eyes as when _he_ had stormed into her apartment and found Kevin naked. She cringed, waiting for the onslaught. However, it never came.

Instead, he quietly said, "Penelope, I think you should probably go."

She nodded emphatically. "Yes, yes. Going is a great idea." Garcia made a half attempt at waving. "I'll just…you both have a nice…bye. Goodbye." Then she bolted.

As soon as she got to the hallway, Garcia took a few deep breaths to slow down her rapidly beating heart. She tried to ignore the fact that she'd just seen Emily Prentiss and David Rossi engaged in an extremely passionate kiss. Along with the fact that Emily's hands had been all over Rossi's ass. Not to mention the slight moan from him—

Oh God.

She smacked the side of her head as if it would help get rid of those images.

This was not good. Not good at all.

Garcia decided to go straight home, and never have anything to do with a co-worker outside of work ever again.

* * *

Sadly, there was no message from JJ the next day letting Garcia know the team would be on a case on somewhere far, far away; like Beijing. So, she was forced to face Emily and Rossi the next day at the office.

As fate would have it, she rode in the elevator alone with Emily first thing in the morning. Talk about an exercise in awkwardness. After a few moments of silence and both women looking everywhere but each other, Garcia decided to get it over and say good morning. They exchanged quiet pleasantries, and Garcia offered another, less panicked-filled, apology. Emily accepted, even saying she appreciated her concern over the burning smell.

But then she very softly asked that Garcia not tell anyone, especially anyone on the team, about her and Rossi. Garcia immediately alleviated the touch of panic she detected in the brunette's eyes, promising not to let another soul know about what she saw; not even Kevin. The corner of her lips lifting, Emily quietly, genuinely, thanked her just before the doors opened.

As she walked to her computer lab, she thought back to what she saw; this time without wanting to go to a phonebook for a therapist's number. She'd made progress. Truth be told, she was a little surprised the man Emily had been hiding was Rossi.

When Rossi first returned to the BAU, Garcia thought he was…well, kind of an asshole. He seemed to treat everyone with indifference, acted as if he didn't need a team to solve a case, and appeared to be an obnoxious know-it-all.

But there had been the case in Indianapolis and then he'd paid for the funeral of the murdered criminology student. He'd even stood up to Hotch over the death investigation of Emily's friend. It turned out Agent Rossi wasn't the hardass he appeared to be; he actually had a soft center. Maybe Emily just got to see more of that side of him.

Later the fates intervened, and she had apparently pissed someone off in the karmic universe because he called her in the afternoon, requesting a set of credit card statements for a case he'd been consulting on. That he wanted to her to bring to him. In his office. Today.

She dragged her feet as she walked through the bullpen. If her earlier conversation with Emily had been awkward, she didn't want to know what new circle of uncomfortable hell it would be in a confined space with Rossi.

When she got to his door, Garcia knocked longer and loudly on the door than was necessary. She stayed rooted in her place until she heard a very clear, "Come in!" Even then, she still waited a few seconds before entering.

She found him at his desk, scribbling across a few forms. He looked up, an eyebrow raised in silent question. Walking quickly, she stood in front of his desk and handed him the folder. "I found those statements you wanted, sir. I even got the ones under the various names your unsub had."

"Thank you." He took the papers from her and returned to his work. He didn't seem fazed by yesterday; though he held onto to his pen with a little more force than necessary. Not sensing any anger, she continued to stand there. As the seconds ticked by, he slowly lifted his head.

Now Garcia could see why unsubs buckled down when he interrogated them; his hard stare was enough to unnerve anyone.

Despite her nervousness, she plowed ahead. "I wanted to say I'm sorry again, sir. I never meant to barge in on you like that. It will never happen again."

Taking a deep breath, he clenched his jaw slightly. "I appreciate the apology." A moment of silence went by before he added more quietly, "Emily told me you two talked."

Garcia's eyes widened in recognition. "Yes, sir! And I promise you, sir with every bit of me that I will never, ever tell anyone here or in any part of the outside world."

Nodding, he answered, "Good," and then went back to work.

Bolstered by bravery of parts unknown, she carefully asked, "Just one question, sir. Was that you who left that message for Emily the other night when we were at the diner?"

The answer to that were his dark eyebrows drawn together and his mouth set in a hard line; he didn't say anything, but his expression spoke loud and clear.

"Okay…I'm just…going to be going." She headed out, but stopped just before the door. Just because had a soft center doesn't mean he showed it all the time. And what's to say he wasn't a hardass all the time? Maybe Emily didn't get that softer side that supposedly existed.

Taking a deep breath, she shut the door quietly and stood in front of him again. He let out a harsh sigh and started to open his mouth, but she beat him to the punch.

"Agent Rossi, I know I'm the last person in this entire branch of government to talk about the fraternization policy here. Frankly, I think some of those rules are rather lame." She threaded her hands together. "And I'm sure Reid could come up with the statistics on the number of people who have dated their co-workers."

Even though he had his arms crossed over his chest in challenge, she continued on, "And I know how important privacy is in these matters because people talk. And not all of it very flattering." She chuckled. "Let me tell you I've already heard some wild, but totally untrue stories about me and Kevin."

"Is there a point to this?" he asked evenly.

"There is, sir. Because like I know there are rumors about me, I also know there have been some…stories," she stopped, to gain a little more strength to finish her sentence, "about you…with other agents."

He balled his hand into a tight fist, and his tone turned furious. "_That_ is none of your business."

"I-I know that." Garcia's voice shook slightly. "And I also know that facts get distorted when stories are passed from person to person and the next thing you know is you've supposedly had sex in the director's office." She held up her arms in defense. "Not you, sir. I'm just speaking generally.

"But I also know that many rumors start with a true backbone and Emily…Emily…" her words trailed off. She wasn't sure she could do this.

"What about Emily?" He sounded irritated, as if it were wasting his time to have this conversation.

And just like that, Garcia's bravery returned in full force. "She is not some young floozy that you just get to have sex with and then discard when you decide to move on to the next best thing. She's…she's really happy!"

She gained enough steam to go from scared shitless to Queen of the Amazon. "You weren't there when she got that voicemail…obviously, but I was, and whatever you said made her smile. I mean, really, really smile.

"She tried to hide it, but she was genuinely happy. Emily is a good woman, and I don't want to see her get hurt and humiliated by you. She does _not_ deserve that."

Garcia expected only one thing to happen, and that was to be yelled at. She braced herself for his fury at sticking her nose into a matter that didn't concern her. She even thought he'd go straight to Hotch for her speaking to him in such a manner.

What she didn't expect was Rossi resting his arms on his desk with the lines in his face smoothed out; almost as if he were calm. "No, she doesn't deserve that. I am not using her. I intend to make sure she doesn't get hurt." He looked her straight in the eye. "And Emily is a great woman."

For the first time, in a very, very long time, Garcia was actually speechless. She now had an ever-so brief glimpse into that soft man she'd heard about. Not only that, she felt a surge of pride at his recognition of her friendship with Emily.

"Thank you, Agent Rossi," she finally managed. "I appreciate your honesty." He inclined his head in return.

She headed back to the door, but turned once again. "But, sir if anything does happen to Emily, something might happen to the files that contain your new book. I mean, files can become so lost that you can't even find commas."

"I better pick up some roses for her after work than, shouldn't I?" He gave the tech analyst a small smile. "One more thing, before you drop by Emily's apartment again-"

"I shall write a letter, call, text, email, and send someone with a trumpet to announce my arrival before I even set a foot out of the car, sir."

* * *

"Yo ho, yo ho, the hacker's life for me."

The next day Garcia found herself chained to her desk once more, this time sifting through housing records.

"_That_ was your firewall?" she exclaimed to herself as her fingers danced over the keys. "My grandmother could come up with better coding than that."

Just then her door opened, bringing in light that didn't belong to a computer monitor.

"Emily!" she greeted to the agent standing in the doorway. "What brings you to my little corner dungeon?"

"A pumpkin spice latte and chocolate chip banana bread." She held up the coffee cup and little brown paper bag. "I figured you might need a little more sugar."

The blonde grinned. "Aww, thank you." Garcia cleared off a pile of folders on the chair next to her. "Come, come. The bringer of the pumpkin greatness must sit down."

Setting the cup down on the desk, Emily joined her. Garcia immediately took a sip of the steaming brew and sighed happily. "An orgasm for my mouth."

Emily laughed.

"So to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?" Garcia brightly asked. "This," she held up the coffee cup, "automatically moves your stuff to the top of the queue for future reference."

"I, uh came by…" Emily turned uncharacteristically shy for a moment. "Dave told me you talked to him yesterday," she said quietly. "That, uh…that was really nice. You didn't have to do that."

Garcia didn't think she was referring to just the apology. "Sure I did," the tech analyst replied simply. "That's what friends do."

Emily looked away for a moment before offering Garcia a warm smile. Reaching over, she squeezed the blonde's hand which Garcia returned.

Then Garcia's grin turned sly. "And you thought you could fool me. Never again doubt my almighty powers; I have a keen eye for these things."

"I'd call that an understatement. You definitely got more than a keen eye with us."

The blonde's voice turned nauseatingly sweet. "Oh, honey, that's so cute. You two are already an 'us.'"

"See you later, Garcia." Emily rose to her feet. "I'm sure you have lots of work to do."

Turning back to her monitors, Garcia sang softly, but loud enough for Emily to hear before she left. "Emily and David sittin' in a tree…"

The End


End file.
